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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084909">RED</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermans_freedom_inc/pseuds/ackermans-freedom-inc'>ackermans-freedom-inc (ackermans_freedom_inc)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermans_freedom_inc/pseuds/ackermans_freedom_inc'>ackermans_freedom_inc</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anlian_aishang/pseuds/anlian_aishang'>anlian_aishang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Modern Era, Zombie Apocalypse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:46:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermans_freedom_inc/pseuds/ackermans-freedom-inc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermans_freedom_inc/pseuds/ackermans_freedom_inc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anlian_aishang/pseuds/anlian_aishang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a flower between the sidewalk cracks, love lives where all else is lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Levi Ackerman &amp; Reader, Levi Ackerman/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>RED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Word count: 2800<br/>Tags: levi x reader, zombie apocalypse AU, modern AU, angst, fem!reader (hereby known as "the usual")</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>You did not believe in peaceful days. </p></div><div class=""><p>Things of the past. Factually, they had indeed happened, but it was impossible to see them in the same light. Levi preferred to call them<em> the good old days</em>, but for you, you labeled them simply as <em>before the outbreak</em>. </p></div><div class=""><p>A day like today, though, probably as peaceful as they got. Upstairs, you heard him working. Flipping over metal cans, checking for expiration dates. Running knives through sandpaper, sharpening the blades. Probing barrels with a covered rod, keeping your guns clean. As much as he wiped them, though, they would never be pristine - countless bloodshed forever tainting. </p></div><div class=""><p>Through the empty space between the door and the stairs, a single ray of sun illuminated your underground workstation. Light, literally and figuratively, was a rare luxury for you now. Your single generator and stash of batteries some of the most treasured necessities you would not dare to waste. Absentmindedly fidgeting, you thought back to before the outbreak - when you would plug in your cell phone, laptop, and television all at the same time. They were simpler times, “much simpler…” you whispered to yourself.</p></div><div class=""><p><em>But were they simpler?</em> You thought about your grandparents. Long dead by now, you were thankful they had not lived to the outbreak. If the infected did not get to them, the heart attack surely would have. Even back <em>before the outbreak</em>, they would always say, <em>You kids these days with all these screens! In my day, we only had the radio and we were lucky if we could get anything to come in!</em></p></div><div class=""><p>You shook your head and scoffed. Either they were indeed wise beyond their years or could truly see the future. Either way, you should have taken their word for it as here you were now - living by the heat of a fireplace and the entertainment of a radio - lucky if you could get anything to come in.</p></div><div class=""><p>It was why today only reaffirmed: there was no such thing as a peaceful day.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>// // //</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Back and forth - AM to FM. Left to right - lowest frequency to highest. Head propped up by one hand. Dial spun by the other. A lone mix of static, buzz, and crackling the only melody to be found.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A disruption from the chaotic song, though, made you shoot up in your seat. Three high-pitched beeps in succession you had not heard since <em>that day</em>. <em>A government alert!? </em>For a second, your lips stammered, but by now - that survival instinct had been solidified. You knew when to call for him and you knew that the time was now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Levi!” You shouted then screamed, <em>“Levi!!”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That bloodcurdling shriek of yours, he had not heard it in years - ever since <em>that day</em>. After just a few hours on the run, when you had been grabbed by your first infected of many to come, that was the only other time he had heard you call his name like this. He discerned, however, that this was even more manic than then. In a split second, he began to fear that what lie downstairs was even worse than an infected, even worse than being in the clutches of death. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Instantly, he dropped his tools. Before he could hear their clang, though, he was already out of earshot. From upstairs, he flung the basement door open and began his rapid descent. Faster than his footsteps, his voice cascaded down the stairwell, “What?! What is it!?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your silent answer was deliberate. Levi grabbed the back of your chair, breath at your ear as he bent down to your side. All senses were on high alert to the faint and automated voice of the radio.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>THIS IS NOT A TEST.</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>AN EMERGENCY BROADCAST TO THE REMAINING SURVIVORS OF THE CORDYCEPS BRAIN INFECTION - OR CBI - EPIDEMIC.</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>THE ISLAND COUNTRIES OF THE UNITED NATIONS ARE COMMENCING PROJECT E.S.C.A.P.E. FOR THE EXIT, SAFETY, CONTINGENCY, AND PROTECTIVE EVACUATION FOR THE PEOPLE OF THE PANDEMIC. </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>TOMORROW, AT 19:00 OF ALL TIME ZONES, U.N. AIRCRAFT WILL BE LANDING AT SEVERAL HELIPAD LOCATIONS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD - THERE TO RECOVER, RESCUE, AND RELOCATE ANY SURVIVORS PRESENT. THE LOCATIONS ON YOUR CONTINENT ARE: </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>AUSTIN - KITCHING RANCH HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>LAREDO - FRIO CANON HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>BOSTON - BRIGHAM &amp; WOMEN’S HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>NEWPORT - HOPEDENE HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>CHICAGO - PRESENCE RESURRECTION HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>MADISON - MERITER PARK HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>DENVER - ROSE MEDICAL CENTER HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>BOULDER - EMANCIPATION HILL HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>VANCOUVER - VANCOUVER GENERAL HELIPAD</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>OLYMPIA - CAPITAL MEDICAL CENTER HELIPORT</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>BRING ONLY ESSENTIALS. BE PREPARED TO ABANDON THEM. THE OBJECTIVE IS SURVIVAL. FINAL DECISIONS TO BE DETERMINED BY THE SCOUTS. </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>THIS IS NOT A TEST.</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Barely believing what you were hearing, your mouth hung ajar, letting him figure it out for himself. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “An escape.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>// // //</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It replayed many times - five minutes, ten minutes, thirty, neither of you could keep track - until your spotty signal turned the words incoherent. <strong>AN EM-RG-N-Y BR--D--ST T- THE R-MA--ING SUR--V-RS... </strong></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Droning static filled the space, an eerie composition rhythmized by your breathless pants and his pounding heartbeat. After all this time, you had never determined how you felt about omens, but if the announcement - or even the radio itself - was telling you anything: the information had been planted. The decision now lie solely in your hands and with each other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, attention left the stereo. You looked up to him: brows angled downward in seriousness, eyes widened in shock, his stern mouth a thin line. He looked down to you: brows arched in concern, eyes shining with tears, lips shaking in disbelief. A timeless stare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your stomach began to turn. His complexion turned pale. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I need some lunch.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I need some air.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>// // // </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The pantry made up an entire room, the shelves of which stood taller than him. Yet, each time he examined the stockpile, he could not help but think that it looked dauntingly spare. Luck or hard work, karma or heartlessness, had brought you to this place where a doomsday-fearing couple once lived. The emergency goods they had accumulated over the years, once that dreaded day finally came, they did not live long enough to make any use of it. His twisted reflection in the two cans he grabbed, he frowned at himself, tucked them under his arm, and headed outside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking count earlier this morning, he predicted maybe vegetable medley soup, maybe tuna - they were nearing their end dates. But today was <em>exceptional </em>to all others in that it was unpredictable. There were certain times that called for something special, as special as could be, and this was one of them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Though you took a regular inventory, his mental tab of your favorites was a daily concern. On days that anxiety overcame you, he would visit the wine cellar, uncorking your stress relief. On days that you failed to smile, he would crank open your childhood meal - the one your parents microwaved when they had no time. On days that you gardened in the hot summer sun, he would twist open a bottle of sweetened iced tea, served room temperature at best and borderline hot at worst - refrigerators and air conditioning of the past. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All of these gifts were finite, and he concluded, your happiness as well. Not only that, but one did not have to be a statistics student to realize: the days that called for them were turning more frequent at an undeniably fast pace. Some day, it would all run out and that some day was approaching soon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cursing under his breath, the most he could do for now was to grit his teeth and bear it. <em>But starting tomorrow - no, this very meal - </em>there would be something he could do. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Just one more day of this.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>// // //</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cliffs extra crimson, the wind particularly cool, he came to your side and joined you on the porch swing with just a hint of spring in his demeanor. For along with his particular choice of your favorite lunch, it seemed nature was on his side as well, sharing in his objective of making this meal a memorable one.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On any other day, you would have noticed the change in his conduct. On any other day, you would have given him a special thanks - a kiss on the forehead, a toothy grin - but today was not a peaceful day, <em>not that there was any such thing.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In silence, you ate. That was the usual. Distinct, however, was the silence itself. Communal but chill. An understood misunderstanding. A deviation from all the countless comfortable silences previously shared together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The plates had been scraped. The water bottles emptied. On a regular day, this was all there was to lunch. However, this was no regular day. More important than food or drink was the task that remained.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Over mindless metal clangs, you whispered under your breath, “It’s probably just fake...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Levi scowled, disrupting the facade of tranquility, “Bullshit it’s fake.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You rolled your eyes. Of all the times for him to be optimistic, why did this have to be the first? “Remember when they said there were rations? How many people went off and died under those pranksters’ promises?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Those idiots are long dead by now.” Far-off gaze recalled far-back times. “You know just as well as I do -” Levi threw his thumb behind him, back towards the house, “that broadcast was real.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe he was right, but in this stage, you refused to admit even the possibility. You crossed your arms and shook your head, ignoring even his eye contact.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Expression morphed, completely dumbfounded at your denial. Here was this miraculous message, yet, here you were - throwing your hands over your ears and going <em>la la la </em>over it. Voice frantically heightened, alarmingly uncharacteristic for him, causing chills to course through your body. “Ever think about how long it’s been since we’ve gotten a single word on that radio?!” His mouth hung agape, breaths turning heavy, “Don’t you ev-!?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears started to prick, stinging, then falling down your cheeks. You hated yourself for it - that after all the tragedy you had seen, the only thing that never failed to make you cry was when he yelled at you. Lord knows what it said for your character, but you had abandoned morality long ago. Ears had gone numb to the screams from the valley. A bullet to the brain for the bodies that wandered too close. Every rest, meal, and minute of your life was lived in a house that had been stolen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Likewise, the only thing that he felt guilty for was making you cry. Stealing, threatening, even killing, none of his sins could compare to hurting you. Levi clutched his fists together - so hard that he shook. His voice startlingly low and quiet, more somber than you had ever heard. You flung your attention to him, silently gawking. Solemn, “Don’t you ever think… about the future?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pressed your lips together, withholding your whimpers. A man of few words, the question reluctant, it was his turn to speak - time for you to listen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Remember when…”<em> In those fields of grass,</em> “you said you wanted to see the world?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been ages ago, but you would have been pressed to forget it. College campus. Lunch breaks. Green open. When homework, exams, and group projects were the greatest of your concerns, it made you laugh then cry to think about. If only you had known what was just around the corner. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the hills, you sat together. Between bites of sandwiches and sips of juice, you chewed his ear off over longing to get away from here. Where would you go after graduation? Better yet, where would you go <em>first</em>? There was a great big world out there to see and you would never turn a blind eye to a single inch of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Five years since then, but indeed, you remembered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Things had changed, but one truth had not. “Levi,” you held his face in your hands, thumb massaging his cheek, “you are my world.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He brought his hand atop yours, keeping your touch pressed against him, “and you mine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His life had been hell until he met you, then, your relationship heaven. Not the latest shows, but you would discuss your favorite books, the ones you reread over and over again. Instead of restaurants, dinner dates at home, cooking your favorite meals just the way you liked. On your own, free from the buzz of city life, secluded hikes along the silent bluffs. He used to think he could never get enough. If only he had known what was just around the corner.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sometimes, he wondered: did that hell really vanish? Or did you pull him up out of it for merely a moment - only for him to drag you back down there with him? On <em>that day</em>, he pulled you up to this hillside hideaway, locked you both inside, never again to leave. You had always dreamed of an escape together, and he used to think you had finally achieved it - no matter how dire the circumstances. However, after many sleepless nights, watching you and your dreams disappear before his very eyes, he learned that this was actually the opposite. This was not the long-awaited getaway, rather, a house arrest with - at the hands of - your lover. Locked up was the adventurous woman with wanderlust in her eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Five years since then, but indeed, he remembered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your fingertip at the corner of his eye, you felt a warm wet start to drip from nail to knuckle to palm. After his slow blink, you did not see - but felt more follow. “And I don’t want to see it waste away.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You could not remember the last time he cried, but when he did - so rarely - it was contagious. A lump in your throat. “So let’s stay! Why risk it? We have the supplies, the food, the -” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your continued protests were cut off when fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, tugging to reveal red-rimmed eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Where he went you followed. After all these years, no matter what came at you from the shadows, the one constant was his conviction and dedication to you and to your safety. <em>But, has it always been for the better?</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A cabinet of cans the source of your every meal. The same shelf of books your only entertainment. The only friends you had in each other. Fearful to step foot off your property, yet sick of the same old sights. Afraid of what each day brought, yet boredom never-ending. An anxiety monotonous. <em>Is this a life?</em> That was debatable.<em> Is this the life she deserves? </em>That was no question.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gentle hands had led you to this spot where the branches of the evergreens bent, where, on a day like today, a single gaze could reveal the entire city, cars looking like carelessly discarded toys along abandoned streets. He molded your hand to point and guided it with his until your line of sight fell upon the spot: past stratus clouds shone one lone light - illuminated cross atop a tall building, nestled just a stone’s throw away from the foot of the hill. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The calm in his voice erased tears from memory, “That’s where we’re going.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But -” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No buts.” He countered, “it’s a couple miles away, barely an hour’s walk. If no one comes or things turn to shit, we turn back.” It all sounded so simple the way he told it, even you were starting to become convinced. It was why the thought of arguing it was unbearable to him, making his voice turn frantic, “but I’m not about to sit here and watch that rescue flight leave without us.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Levi.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Warm was the touch that took your wringing hands and brought them to cool lips. Featherlight kisses placed on your knuckles. “We have a chance.” Gaze lifted from the fingertips he kissed to the eyes he fell in love with, “A real chance to get out of this shitty place.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cathartic comfort. Hot tears streaked down your face, coating your cheeks in a heated blanket. Clammy hands made sound in his hold, a cover to your cold sweat. Even in the twelve o’clock sun, his pupils had dilated. In them, you saw hope. You blinked twice at the man in front of you, that expression had been long-lost on him, ever since you first laid eyes on the very house itself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His conviction had pulled you the distance, your history only reinforced. Making it this far, what was a couple more miles? If the last five years had proven anything, it was that there was nothing you could not do<em> together</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With haste, you intertwined your hands with his. In those faithful eyes, you stared and checked, “Together?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Together.”</p>
</div>
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